Incidental infiltration
by jodylahietie
Summary: While hiking through Britain, Joanne stumbles upon a gathering of strange people. With the threat of memory modification, she tries to blend in during the Quidditch World Cup in order to learn more about the Wizarding World.
1. 1 Into the woods

Disclaimer: I do not own the _Harry Potter _series by J.K. Rowling

Incidental infiltration

by Jodylahietie

* * *

1\. Into the woods

It was already past lunchtime when Joanne decided to take a break. She had secretly hoped to arrive at the camp site she was heading for by now but it seemed like it was further than she had thought. She stopped at the edge of the forest and made herself comfortable.

For the last few days she had been hiking from place to place on her own. Away from her parents and siblings, meeting new people along the way. At first this was an easy task. At the hostels she stayed were many other people on their summer holiday. Hiking just like her. As she continued west, however, there seemed to be less guests and the hikers that she did come across were hurrying in the opposite direction. It was quite strange.

When she asked one man what was bothering him, he spoke quickly about an appointment at the dentist office before he scurried off.

On the positive side, the trail she walked had been quiet and she could enjoy it's tranquillity without being interrupted. Just like she was now, relaxing in the sunny afternoon, her eyes closed. Joanne listened to the songs of birds, the rustling of the grass in the wind and the steady thumping of footsteps.

She jerked up and listened closely. She could definitely hear footsteps coming nearer. When she opened her eyes, she spotted two figures walking towards her. As they came closer she could hear what the man and woman were saying to each other.

''The path into the woods should be here somewhere. According to Miranda from the Department of Magical Games and Sports we only have about an hour to go.'' The woman told her companion.

''Another hour?! We should have flooed to the ministry and used a portkey from there.'' The man complained, clearly not enjoying the walk.

''Oh hush, you know what the healer said. Avoid smoke as much as possible and exercise more. Well, we're doing both now!''

Joanne didn't understand half of what the couple was saying but one thing was clear. They were from the neighbourhood and going in the same direction. She put her thermos down and got up to get their attention.

''Excuse me, are you familiar with the area?'' She asked as she made her way over.

''Well, we're not experts but we know our way around. Are you heading for the camp site, dear?'' The woman asked politely.

''Yes, I was just taking a break and wasn't sure how far it was from here. Do you know?'' Joanne answered.

''It's about an hour from here.'' The woman replied thoughtfully. ''I have to say I'm surprise that you are on foot. Most people apparate right outside the gathering or take a portkey. Strange.'' She mused.

Joanne, who didn't know at all what the woman meant, thought it best to act natural. The man didn't seem confused at all from the way his wife spoke.

''Would you like to join us the rest of the way?'' The woman continued.

Joanne concidered the offer for a second. Her first thought was yes. She wanted to meet new people and this couple seemed to know where they were going. Yet, she still had to eat lunch and the man didn't seem pleased by his wife's question.

She thanked the couple but declined saying she still had to eat. She added that she may catch up with them later. She did just that. But not before meeting someone else, just as she was finishing her lunch.

* * *

As she was gulping the last bit of her tea, she heard a crack from somewhere in the near distance and then footsteps walking in her direction.

''What do you think you're doing?'' A voice came from behind her.

She turned around quickly and stood face to face with a man. He was dressed in what one could consider a normal way except for the fact that they were in a forest. He was wearing a grey suit and black, polished shoes. His big moustache was neatly trimmed. If anything, Joanne would say he was a banker.

''S-Sorry?" Joanne stammered, confused by his appearance and question.

''If you think you can camp here for free in order to spare the costs then it's not going to work. You want to see the match, you have to put up your tent on the site. Ministry regulations.'' The man said seriously.

''I was just taking a break.'' The teenager managed to say. ''I was going to the site just now.''

''I'm sure you were.'' The man said, unconvinced. ''I'll be back here in half an hour and if you're still here, you will be removed from this area and your ticket will be declared as invalid.''

Before she could even try to reply that she didn't have any ticket, the man turned around and took a few steps away from her. Then, he pulled a stick from his pocket and disappeared with a loud _Crack_.

Joanne stood frozen. Her wide eyes fixed on the spot the man had just been standing. Where did he go? If anyone would play a prank on her, she didn't think it would be a banker in the woods. She scanned the area with her eyes but found nothing out of the ordinary. It was like the man was never there at all.

Was she hallucinating? She'd had enough to drink, she was sure of it. The only two possibilities she could come up with were that either the man was a magician or he had used some kind of magic.

Although Joanne was eighteen years old, she did not dismiss the idea of magic being involved. Too many times she had seen strange things that were, as far as science was concerned, impossible. Things no one else seemed to see. Once on a school trip to Amsterdam she saw a woman walk into a wall. And instead of hitting her head, the woman simply disappeared as if the wall was never there.

Another time, when she was cycling with her parents, they rode by a huge mansion. In the field that was the front garden she saw a white, half transparent woman in a huge ballgown. When she pointed this out to her parents with a shriek, they said they didn't see anything and asked if she was feeling all right.

And these were just the times she was absolutely sure of what she had seen. There had been many times she saw strange creatures that had disappeared after she blinked or other tiny but impossible feats. She had been able to dismiss these, most of the time. Like her parents dismissed them as Joanne having a big imagination.

As Joanne didn't want to be found by the same banker in the woods again, she shook herself out of her thoughts and continued her way. Still musing over what had happened.

* * *

Near the entrance to the campsite she caught up with the couple she met earlier that day. There they were greeted by the owner.

''Welcome, I suppose you three want a spot for one night too? What is your name than I'll check the list of reservations.''

''Oh don't mind us, dear. We're just here for the match. We'll be leaving again tonight. We live just on the other side of the woods.'' The woman told the owner.

''Good,'' He replied. ''usually a reservation isn't needed but with this many people in one place I don't think it would fit. Just 3 guest tickets then?''

''Oh, sorry,'' Joanne quickly intervened. ''we're not together. I do need a spot to put up my tent. I have a reservation under the name of Smith.''

After looking behind the owner she had seen that the field was indeed crammed with tents. And that while she hadn't met anyone on the way here. Maybe it had something to do with what the woman had said earlier. Not many walked here apparently. Afraid that there wouldn't be a spot for her anymore, and curious to see what all the fuss was about, Joanne decided to use one of her strongest talents. Lying. Hopefully there were families named Smith on the list. It was the first British last name that she could think of. If the muttering of the owner was any indication she was lucky.

''Not another Smith.'' He groaned. ''What is your first name?'' He asked as he scanned the list.

''This is the one.'' Joanne pointed at a Smith that was already crossed out. ''It seems like the wrong one was crossed out. I understand though, it's a really busy day for you. Here you go.'' She passed him the money. ''Keep the change. The first field, fourth row and thirty-first spot, right? I'll find it, don't worry. Bye.'' Joanne walked purposefully away and if someone called after her, she pretended not to hear it.

When she was out of sight she took a deep breath and then smiled. Even if the family by the name of Smith was already there, she was sure she could find a place somewhere.

* * *

As Joanne crossed the field toward what she hoped would be a free spot, her suspicions were confirmed. For if it wasn't magic that made a tent three stories high, then she didn't know what did. If it wasn't magic that made a fire appear out of nowhere from the tip of a stick, then what? A child had flown by on a broom, hovering one foot above the air, for God's sake. After she passed the first five tents, she needed to find a place to herself. To process what she had seen and was she was going to do with it.

She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation but felt it wasn't the smart thing to do. Everyone around her seemed to think it was the most normal thing in the world to fly on a broomstick of all things and to conjure something from a piece of wood. No, smartest thing to do now was to act normal. Or to leave, but Joanne was way too curious to back out now. But what _was_ normal here?

After thinking in the shadows, her back against a tree she reached two conclusions. Most of the people were wearing normal clothes, although the strangest combinations. She didn't have to change there. The second was that all teenagers and adults seem to have a stick that they used to do magic. The hiker looked around slowly until she found a branch that would suite her purpose. She could fake it, till she made it.

When she appeared from the shadows she was Joanne, a Dutch witch, who came here for the same reason all the witches and wizards came here. Whatever it was. She continued her way to her spot, keeping her eyes and ears open for information.

''I can't wait for the match to begin! Who do you think will win, Bulgaria or Ireland?''

''Amazing that the Ministry of Magic was able to get the World Cup to Britain.''

''One day, I will be a professional Quidditch player and play for Scotland.'' ''Yeah right, one hit from a bludger and you'll be crawling under your bed every time you hear the word Quidditch.''

''The owner of this camp site is acting suspicious again. I think I'll go there and see if I have to modify his memories again. We don't want him to spread the information to other muggles.''

That last comment made Joanne stop dead in her tracks for a moment. She quickly resumed walking, not wanting to attract attention to herself. Her thoughts ran wild in her head. They modified the owners memories? So that he wouldn't tell anyone? She was shocked that this was what wizards did if a non-wizard, apparently called a muggle, found out about them. They touched someone's mind. And they spoke so lightly about it. She even caught a bit of annoyance in the tone the wizard gave. Like the owner was being difficult on purpose.

Now she knew just how important it was to be careful. If the consequence would be that her memories would be erased. She shuddered just thinking about it. What happened to equal rights for all mankind!? But then again, she only found out about this community half an hour ago. Maybe she didn't have the whole picture. She just had to be really careful if she wanted to learn more.

Speaking of learning more, she stopped in front of a deserted tent that, judging from the chairs and table, belonged to a family of four. There on the table lay an item that could help her a lot with learning more about this world. After a moment of hesitation, she took the book 'Quidditch through the ages' and left a note on the table, explaining that she would bring it back before the next day.

* * *

AN:

I know it says Harry is in this story, and I promise you that he will appear. Very soon.


	2. 2 A tight spot

2\. A tight spot

Looking back, Harry should have known this could happen. At an event as big as the Quidditch World Cup, someone was bound to recognize him and spread the word. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was on the camping site.

So now, as he slowly walked back from the water tab, bucket full, towards the Weasley tent, eyes followed him just like at Hogwarts. Only this time it weren't just students who watched. Every adult stopped with what they were doing when he walked past and gave him curious glances. No one dared to talk to him. Their scrutinizing gaze gave him an uncomfortable feeling.

Harry cursed himself for not bringing the invisibility cloak. He wanted to get back to the tent and out of view as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the load he carried made it hard to move at a faster pace without spilling. He wished Ron was there to distract him from his surroundings but his friend was somewhere in the woods, gathering firewood. Instead Harry tried to distract himself by focussing on the bucket full of water, forget his surroundings. But the way everyone fell silent as he passed and turned to stare at him made it impossible to ignore.

Although, maybe not _everyone_.

In his peripheral vision, Harry noticed a women in front of a small tent who was reading a book. Every now and then she looked up and around. Then her eyes met Harry's.

He waited for the inevitable gaze at his forehead and was surprised when it didn't come. Instead they flickered to the tent opposite hers. For a moment she raised her eyebrow at what she saw before focussing on her book again.

Surprised, Harry turned around and understood why she had raised an eyebrow. Behind it, a young man was hiding and not doing a very good job at it. When the man noticed he had been seen by Harry, he took an deep breath and stepped nervously in front of him.

"Hi, I'm Johnathan Bigot from the Magical Sports magazine Can I ask you some questions?"

Harry was caught off guard. So far, complete silence had followed him on his way back. Surprised by the change, he didn't answer immediately. This seemed to encourage the wizard to continue.

"Is this your first time at a Quidditch World Cup?" He asked Harry, quill and parchment at the ready.

"Uhm, yeah, why?" Harry stammered. Why did this man want to know that?

Then it clicked in Harrys head. If this man worked for the Magical Sports magazine, that would mean he was a reporter. Up until now, the only paper he knew of was the Daily Prophet. But of course there were bound to be more in the wizarding world.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. He had never been interviewed before and preferred it that way. He didn't want the attention. At school it had been bad enough.

Mr. Bigot tried to ask Harry another question. Before he could continue, however, he was interrupted by a witch in a fuchsia coloured dress and manicured nails. She looked very out of place in the middle of a camping ground.

"Excuse me, Harry, dear, I'm Monica Daywright from the Witch Weekly. Would you mind answering some questions?" She asked with a sweet voice, pretending as if the man next to her didn't exist. Before Harry even processed what she had said, she shouted over her shoulder.  
"Bosco, come here, would you! See if we can make a picture for the article." In the distance, Harry saw a man with a huge old fashioned camera.

He tried to decline politely and continue his way without spilling water but it was no use. Before Harry knew it, He was surrounded by other reporters, all asking if he would answer their questions. Just when he was about to panic, a new voice, louder than all the others, spoke.

"Enough! How dare you all speak to mister Potter without an appointment. This is a violation of at least two articles of the law of Underaged wizards."

Everyone stopped speaking at once and turned around. A couple of feet away, a woman stood. She had her dark blond hair up in a bun and was looking very strict. She reminded Harry of a young professor McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher. She even looked somewhat familiar. Thin, tall and lips pursed in a small line.

The woman continued speaking, slightly louder than a normal volume.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have an interview with mister Potter that I would very much like to do before the deadline. I advise you all make an appointment by contacting mister Lynch, like civilized people, if you want to speak to him this badly. Make no mistake, if you keep bothering him, I _will _report it."

Harry had no idea what appointment the woman was talking about, nor who this 'mister Lynch' was supposed to be. However, the reporters looked reluctant to continue their flood of questions.

Looking back at the woman, he realised why she seemed familiar. It was the one who was reading a book just a few feet away! He hadn't recognized her immediately. There was something different. Though, he didn't know what.

She must have said something else that threatened the reporters while Harry wasn't listening because they all scurried of quickly, leaving him alone with the woman. She walked up to him wearing that same, strict face.

''Where were you, mister Potter? We had an appointment half an hour ago! Your manager, mister Lynch, told me you would be there.'' She said, looking angry.

Harry, who had no idea what the woman was talking about, took a step back stammering. ''M-my manager?''

But then, without warning, the woman's face formed a smile and she started laughing. Harry stood, perplexed. For a minute or so, she continued to laugh. Every time she looked at Harry, she started again.

''Your face.'' she snickered. ''You should see your face.''

She took a few calming breaths and turned to Harry with a smile. ''Are you alright? They didn't run you over, did they?'' She asked.

''What? Oh, no I'm fine. I think.'' Harry answered the stranger. Now that she was standing close he could see that he had been wrong. Although she was tall, she didn't look very old. He guessed just a couple of years older than him. More a girl than a woman.

''I'm sorry but who are you?'' He asked, confused. ''And who is this mister Lynch you were talking about earlier?''

Harry did not have a manager. Just the thought made him feel sick. It reminded him a little too much of professor Lockhart.

''Ah don't worry about him.'' The girl told him. ''Whoever he is, I'm sure he won't bother you. I would love to see the look on his face when he gets all those interview requests. That is, if he even exists at all.''

''You mean, you did that just to get rid of them?'' Harry asked incredulously. ''You lied to all those reporters just to get them to leave?'' He started to grin. He had no idea who this girl was, but she just saved him from a lot of trouble and probably embarrassment.

''Why- '' he wanted to ask her but before he could she started to drag him away towards her tent.

''I forgot about them for a moment. I was too busy laughing.'' The witch told him sheepishly. ''They might come back. So we'd better hide here for little while.''

She pushed Harry into her tent and followed him, closing the flap that was the door. It was a very tight fit, made for two, tops. The light that filtered through engulfed them in a blue colour, making Harry feel as if he was under water. They sat down on the camping mattress and both looked through a little gap, checking for possible reporters. After a few seconds, Harry's curiosity won over and he asked the first thing that came to him.

''Who are you?''

The girl smiled at his question, undoubtedly expecting it, but didn't answer him immediately. She kept looking out for a few more seconds and then turned to meet his eyes. Harry noticed they were dark blue. But then remembered that it might be the canvas making it look like that.

''People call me Joanne'' She told him, mysteriously. She offered him her hand. He shook it.

''Harry, but I guess you already knew that.'' Harry replied.

''Well, it was hard to miss, honestly. Those barbarians kept asking 'Harry Potter' to answer some questions. Or more like demanding. When I saw you standing in the middle of that crowd, I realized it must be you they were speaking to. It didn't seem like you were enjoying yourself so I decided to help you out for a bit. No problem really.'' She explained. ''I hope that was all right.'' She added hastily.

She must have noticed the frown that had formed on Harry's forehead. But he wasn't angry at her, just thoughtful. He'd expected her to tell him that she recognized him because of his scar, he way most of the wizarding world did. Instead she figured it because the reporters addressed him that way. Moreover, the reason she helped him wasn't because of who he was but because she had noticed his upcoming panic. He was surprised by her reasoning and at the same time glad. Joanne hadn't let the knowledge of his identity change the way she acted. Literally acted.

Harry reassured her that she had been of great help. While surrounded, he had no idea about what to do and he had gladly taken her escape route.

While talking, Harry's eyes fell on the backpack that lay in the corner. It was half emptied, a bottle and a thermos were fixed at the sides and from one of the straps hung a cap. It matched the rest of her outfit, he noticed. She wore hiking boots and a windbreaker. It was completely different from all the other witches and wizards. She actually wore muggle clothing the right way. Harry thought it was almost odd.

''I know this might be strange, but can I maybe borrow that?'' Harry pointed at the cap that hung from the backpack. ''It's just. I don't want people to keep staring while I'm here.'' He explained.

She nodded, surprised. ''Yeah, sure. Shall I help you with the water? I'm not doing anything right now, and I wanted to take a look around, anyway.''

Harry had opened his mouth to decline her offer but closed it again. Joanne had stood up without another word and had left the tent. Besides, he didn't mind the help and so far she'd been good company.

After a moment she reappeared and stuck out her hand to help Harry up.

''The coast is clear. Let me just grab my stuff. Oh, and here's the hat.'' She passed it to Harry.

* * *

Harry was relieved to notice the difference in atmosphere the moment they set foot for the Weasley's. The campsite had returned to a field full of laughter and excitement. Everyone's attention was back on the match that would happen tonight. In the distance, he could hear people sing the Irish national anthem.

Before they left, Harry and Joanne divided the water over two buckets. This made the route physically lighter as well. And his disguise worked, miraculously, too. Even though it was just a cap, no one noticed 'The Boy Who Lived' anymore. Harry began to feel relaxed again.

He told Joanne where they were going and then about the Weasley's. He told her about his best friends, Ron and Hermione, how Mr. Weasley got tickets for the World Cup because he worked at the ministry. About Bill and Charlie and their jobs. About Percy starting to work and the pranks Fred and George pulled. She seemed very interested in what he had to say and asked him quite a few questions, some even he couldn't answer.

Before Harry knew it, they had arrived at their destination. It was then that he realised that, because of all her questions, he hadn't been able to ask Joanne anything about herself.


End file.
